


The Family He Lost

by Walkinthegarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Comfort/Angst, Edmure escaped from the Lannisters, F/M, Family, Gen, Presumed Dead, Queen Sansa, Queen in the North, Riverrun has been destroyed, Stark children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:18:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1659506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walkinthegarden/pseuds/Walkinthegarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping Casterly Rock with his wife and young son, Edmure Tully travels North to the niece he never met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Family He Lost

A haggard man slowly makes his way through Winter Town. A woman trails behind him, a small boy clinging to her even smaller frame. Like her husband, she is haggard and worn. All that see her know she must have once been a great beauty, but the winter has not been kind to her. No one moves to help them, even though it is clear the exhaustion is ready to take over the both of them. The farther they walk, the more people around them stop, watching them with cautious and slightly surprised expressions.

The couple meet no resistance as they trek the road that leads to Winterfell. The guards stare at them with unabashed surprise. It isn’t until they are at the gate that someone comes out of their stupor and rings the bells.

“Get the Queen!” someone yells.

The man and woman do not stop as they continue to walk towards the door. If they stop, they look as if they will fall. The world around them is silent, the bells quiet for someone has gotten to the Queen with the news of their arrival. A sound echoes in the distance, running feet on stone. The man looks up. He sees a beautiful woman with hair red as fire standing at the balcony that overlooks the courtyard. Her hand is clutching the stone as she stares down at him. Her face turns sad and tears well in her eyes as she turns and runs back into the castle. His eyes turn to the large front doors and is gladdened to sees two guards opening them.

The red woman is running down the steps. Her skirts are gathered in her gloved hands and her cloak is  thrown back as far behind her as the ties will allow. She is smiling, pure joy on her face as she runs to him. With a smile of his own, he opens his arms to her as she throws herself at him, her long arms wrapping around his neck. He isn’t strong enough to hold her so he sinks his knees into the snow, but she doesn’t notice. She’s crying, and so is he. The exhaustion, the sadness, and the happiness crash over him all at once and he sobs into her hair as she clings to him.

“Uncle Edmure,” she cries as she pulls back after a long moment. She cups his face with her gloved hands and smiles brightly as the tears continue to freeze against her pale cheeks.

“Sansa,” he whispers in reply, hardly believing that he made it so far. He continues to weep as he looks at her, so like her mother. She is more beautiful than his sister ever was but she is still the very image of the family he lost.

Sansa looks behind him and he wonders what his wife is doing, but the smile on Sansa’s face doesn’t falter for a moment as she stands, pulling him with her.

“Come inside Uncle, into the warmth,” she tells him, leading him into the castle. She doesn’t speak the whole way to her solar.

When they arrive, she whispers to her handmaidens to draw two hot baths in the chambers next to her, to have someone bring warm food, and to find clothes for him. She doesn’t stop smiling as she goes to her wardrobe and removes a long woolen dress. He recognizes it. It was that asked for the seamstresses of Riverrun to make it, as no Northern seamstress cared so much for detail. It was to be gift for Sansa’s twelfth nameday, the niece he had never laid eyes on. He watches as she turns to his wife, who sits on the floor by the fire.

“Aunt Roslin, this is a gown from when I was younger and shorter. I’ll have some made for you, but for now it should do.”

“Your Grace, thank you,” Roslin whispers as she sets her son on the warm stone by the fire and reaches for the gown.

“I am just Sansa, Aunt Roslin,” Sansa whispers in return. She gently helps Roslin to her feet. He is shocked when the Queen of the North begins to help his wife undress before helping her into the gown. Roslin is so small compared to Sansa. Roslin is older, but it is Sansa who wraps her arms around her and gently shushes as Roslin begins to cry.

“Robb,” Roslin calls quietly, stretching her arm out to their son. “Come meet your Aunt Sansa.”

Sansa’s eyes well with tears at the name. Beside the boy’s mother she kneels so she is only slightly taller than the toddler. The boy looks at his mother then to the stranger and Sansa nearly weeps. He is the very image of the Robb she remembers from her childhood. Everything from his curls to his eyes are the same, as if the gods had brought her brother back to life.

Hesitantly, Robb gets up from his seat and approaches his cousin whom he is to call aunt. “It is nice to meet you Aunt Sansa,” he recites, the way his mother taught him through their journey.

“Robb,” Sansa says softly, taking his small hands into her own, a sad smile on her face, “are you tired of walking?”

“Yes milady,” he replies. Edmure sees his wife’s eyes grow wide as she stares in fear at their son.

“She is a queen Robb, you say Your Grace,” his wife scolds.

“I am just Aunt Sansa,” Sansa soothes gently, raising a hand to tuck a stray curl behind his ears. “But you do not have to walk anymore sweet boy. You and your father and mother will stay here at Winterfell until Riverrun is rebuilt. When you return to your home, you will be atop a horse, and your belly will have not been empty for many name days. You are a Lord of Riverrun and prince of the North by my decree.” Sansa leans forward and places a soft kiss against his temple.

Edmure smiles to his wife, happy their son will be cared for should anything happen to him. He and Sansa lost so much in the War of Five Kings, more than most. His sisters are dead, his uncle lost, his father dead, and all of his nephews and one of his nieces dead. Sansa was forced to watch as her father’s head was cut from his body, her siblings are either lost or dead, and her mother is dead. She is his only family, and he does not look forward to the day that Riverrun is complete and he will have to return home to rule it. He does not want to ever be separated from her.

“A bath is ready Your Grace,” a handmaiden says as she enters the chamber. Roslin looks to Edmure and he nods his head for her to take it, that he will take the next one.

Sansa doesn’t move from her crouched status as his wife and son leave with the handmaiden. Her head is bent and he knows she is crying. He kneels before her, waiting for her to speak. After a moment she lifts her head and looks at him, tears staining her cheeks.

“You were with him before…” Sansa trails off, the tears still streaming down her face.

“Yes,” he replies, knowing she speaks of Robb and the his wedding.

“Was he happy? Before his death? Cersei used to say Robb did not love me, as he did not trade Jaime for me. She said he was happy without me. I hope he was happy.” She looks at her hands and she suddenly looks so young to him. She _is_ so young, he’d almost forgotten.

“Sansa, do not ever believe Robb did not love you. He thought Arya dead the way the Lannisters wouldn’t speak of her in the letters. He rose the banners to avenge your father’s death but he continued his fight for _you_. One of his men called you a Lannister whore and it took four men to pry your brother from him. He screamed to the camp that you were a _princess_ of the North and that it was _you_ they fight to save. He said you were his heir, as the last Stark child it was _you_ that’d be Queen should he die. He cried every night we had the Kingslayer in our camp and he could not trade him for you. He rejoiced in silence when your mother set him free. Robb would have been a wonderful king had he lived, but you were his _greatest_ weakness. His love for you led to foolish decisions, his guilt over you lead to his marriage to the Westerling girl. You were his sister and he loved you more than anyone in his camp, including his wife. They say even as he lay in his blood, the life draining from him, that he asked the gods to save you. They say the last words to leave his lips were _long live the Queen_.”

“I’d do anything for him to be King again,” she whispers. He smiles, cupping her face against his hand and pressing their foreheads together so their tears nearly mix as they fell.

  
“So would I.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sansa deserves to be Queen, goodness let her be happy. I think she's the only one RR won't kill, her and Arya.


End file.
